and know that I'm with you
by The Little Ripper
Summary: Drabble post-Turn, Turn, Turn and pre-Providence. After the events at the Hub, Jemma's having difficulty sleeping, so she goes looking for Fitz.


**Okay, so this is a prompt from Tumblr about Fitz dealing with having shot someone. Written after _Turn, Turn Turn_ and before the airing of _Providence_. Title taken from the song _Be Still_ by The Fray.**

* * *

**and know that I'm with you**

She can't sleep. You'd think that with the day she's had, exhaustion would win out against the thoughts racing in her head, but no. For the fifth time that night, Jemma picks up her phone and checks the time: it's two in the morning. The last time she checked was only fifteen minutes ago.

Giving up, she lets out a loud sigh before heaving herself up and off the bed. She opens her closet, which has thankfully gone unharmed, unlike the rest of her bunk, pulls out a jumper and slips it on. It's well-worn and gray and a little too big for her, probably one of the many items of clothing she'd borrowed from Fitz and had forgotten to return.

Silently, Jemma creeps out of her bunk and walks across the living area, careful not to step on the shards of glass still scattered on the floor. It makes her heart clench, to see their home in such a state of destruction. She's glad she hadn't been there to see it all go down.

She knocks twice on Fitz's door, hoping against hope that he's awake too. There's no answer so she tries again, this time whispering his name just loud enough that she hopes she doesn't wake Skye next door. Still no answer. They haven't been able to fully restore the Bus' security system yet, so Jemma decides to just open the door, knowing that it's unlocked.

But Fitz isn't there.

He's having trouble sleeping too, she confirms. Jemma knows that the first place Fitz would go to clear his head would be the lab. Before going down, she makes a quick trip to the kitchen to fill two mugs with tea.

Carefully, she descends to the cargo hold with a mug in each hand, only to find that the lights in the lab have been shut off. Strange, she thinks. But Jemma doesn't think much else of it as she goes back upstairs. She checks every inch of the Bus, but she still can't find him. Where could he have gone?

Jemma starts to feel a pang of worry in her chest. Surely Fitz was still safe on the plane?

She shrugs off the feeling as best she can, and decides to just leave the mugs in the kitchen and maybe go back to the lab to do some tidying up. If she was having difficulty with sleep before, now there was no way she could rest with Fitz nowhere to be found.

She makes her way back down to the lab, eyeing the bullet marks on the door. The rest of the cargo hold looks well-intact, which makes the marks peculiar. She makes a mental note to ask Fitz about those in the morning before opening the door and turning on the lights.

Fitz is there.

In a corner of the lab, she finds her partner sitting on the floor, against the wall. He's in his pajamas, arms propped up on his knees, his back hunched, and his head resting on his arms, face out of view. He lifts his head and blinks a few times, adjusting himself to the brightness, looking up at Jemma.

Without a second thought, Jemma is sitting next to him, concern etched all over her face. She doesn't ask him what's wrong, the question is written in her expression, and she knows that Fitz will see it once he lets his eyes meet hers.

He does, and when their eyes meet, Jemma can feel a piece of her heart chip off. He looks worn down, broken. There are dark circles under his eyes and his curls are wild.

Fitz lets his gaze roam for a moment, taking in her appearance. He seems to relax a bit when he eyes her—_his_—jumper on Jemma's slight frame. He's always been fond of Jemma wearing his clothes. He lifts his gaze back up to meet hers before looking away again, this time looking straight ahead.

They stay like that for a while, Jemma watching Fitz and Fitz watching nothing in particular. It's quiet and the air feels heavy around them, but there's a comfort in the space they occupy.

Finally, without looking at her, Fitz fills the silence.

"I killed someone."

It comes out in a whisper, his voice hoarse from misuse, but the sound rings in her ears. Fitz doesn't look at her, doesn't see the bewildered expression on her face, he just looks on ahead, as if he's afraid to meet her gaze. "It was a HYDRA agent. He- he was going to attack May from behind… and the gun was right there and…"

She doesn't let him finish that sentence. There are tears creating tracks down his cheeks and what was left of her heart crumbles. She grabs Fitz's hand and quickly laces her fingers through his. She doesn't have to say anything else.

When he squeezes back, Jemma shifts to close the gap between them, not letting go of his hand. She rests her head on Fitz's shoulder and he rests his atop hers. Jemma can feel the slight dampening of her hair as Fitz continues to cry, but she doesn't mind.

She's not sure how long they stay like that. They let the silence stretch long after Fitz's eyes have dried out. Maybe they're there for a few minutes or a few hours, it doesn't matter. They don't know what they'll be facing in the next few days, but they know it won't be easy. What matters is that they have each other to hold onto, no matter what else comes.

* * *

**Let me know what you think!**


End file.
